tokyo
by not a straight trumpet
Summary: Kumiko and Reina muse upon some things from a hotel balcony.


**a/n:** this is just something short and fluffy based on the novels since it's mentioned in those that kumiko's family lived in tokyo when she was younger

* * *

Tokyo was _big._

This should have been obvious to Kumiko - after all, she'd heard countless stories about it from Mamiko, but she really doubted that most of those stories had been true. There's only so much one can remember from the time before they were five, and Mamiko wasn't the most trustworthy individual.

Regardless, it was big, and Kumiko was small, and so she stood on the balcony of her hotel room with a sort of controlled awe.

"You've been here before, haven't you?" Reina murmured, standing next to her.

"When I was a baby, yeah. I c-can't really remember anything from then, though."

"Nobody can."

"My parents figured it'd be easier to raise two kids in a little town, and my dad had some connections, so we moved to Uji and just kinda . . . stayed there."

"Hmm."

"I've, uh, never been since, haha." Kumiko drummed her fingers on the railing. The hotel room behind her was dark, but her phone beeped with one notification or another, lighting it up in a harsh, artificial glow. "It's weird."

"I know."

"You've lived in Uji most of your life, right?" Reina nodded.

"The Kousakas have lived there for generations." She let out a soft chuckle. "I suppose we don't take well to change."

"Do you want to?"

"What?"

"Leave. Home, I mean. You don't sound that happy."

"Would you believe me if I said I wasn't?" Reina straightened her back, releasing a few shuddering breaths into the cold night air. _So much for winter break being the best time to travel,_ Kumiko thought. "It's not like we live in the countryside. It's a nice enough town, with nice enough people, and lots of buildings and activity and all of that. I don't mind it as a place at all."

"So, uh, what's your point?"

"I don't want to stay in the same place forever." It was something that often came to Kumiko's mind, but Reina was truly regal, set aglow by the city lights hovering around them. "I can't become special if I'm just . . . static."

"You're always special to me," Kumiko murmured. Reina laughed.

"You're still awfully sentimental, did you know that?" she sighed, wiping a stray tear from the corner of her eye. "Even after all this time."

"Hah, I guess." Kumiko tightened her grip around the railing. "Where would you go, if you could? Anywhere at all."

"Hmm." Reina scrunched up her face in concentration for a moment - it was _adorable,_ Kumiko thought - before she answered. "Further away than here. Maybe New York, or Paris."

"Why Paris?" Reina shrugged.

"It seems like a nice enough place."

"You're such a romantic, you'd fit right in." Kumiko jokingly nudged her in the side. "Reina Kousaka in a beret, standing on a street corner under some glowing streetlights, playing her trumpet for all the passerby." Kumiko shivered a bit. "I can see it."

"You can?"

"Pretty well, yeah." It suddenly occurred to Kumiko that they were on a high level at the hotel, and that a fall from this height would lead to certain death. A cheery thought, she mused to herself bitterly, one that had no place in this conversation, and so she did her best to banish it to those dark corners of her mind she rarely dared to visit.

"I'll have to think more about that, then." Another chilled wind blew across the balcony, sending Reina's hair cascading to the side like a silky curtain. The city lights glowed below. Kumiko was quiet for a moment.

"W-would you take me with you?" she asked, so quiet it was hardly more than a whisper, her lips just barely parting to ask the question.

"I'd hope so." Reina edged herself closer to Kumiko - probably for the sake of warmth - and closed her eyes.

"What?"

"Well, I wouldn't go alone, would I? That'd just be . . ." Reina trailed off, shuddering. "I'd rather not think about it."

"Paris, then."

"Someday." Reina rested her head on Kumiko's shoulder, and Tokyo seemed just a little bit cozier.

* * *

 **a/n:** i miss kumirei like nobody's business


End file.
